I arrived home on Sunday, around 9:30PM, after a long but easy day of travel. When I pulled into the garage, I bumped the car into the big Christmas tree box like I always do and was flooded with happiness to be home.
Lou carried my suitcase in for me, and Sam gave me a warm sniffy welcome.
I can't write about the trip yet, except to say that I am really glad that I went. I hope that I was a help.
I slept about ten hours on Sunday night, and eight hours last night, but I am still exhausted. (I never got eight hours of sleep during the trip; there was too much to do every day, and too much to talk about every night when Tinalynne and I were finally alone.) I could go back to bed right now, but I can't, because I need to go to work.
My suitcase is in my bedroom, with everything just dumped out on the floor because late Sunday night I had to find my asthma medicine.
I started coughing again on Sunday. I was waiting for my final flight when a woman sat down next to me, wearing some kind of horrific perfume that immediately made it hard to breathe. I started coughing and choking and quickly gathered up all my stuff and moved away from her. I had never had such a strong reaction before. It would have been nice to know what she was wearing, but I didn't dare go near enough to ask. I tried to keep an eye on her as we boarded; I was ready to ask to have my seat changed if she was going to be near me. But she was in first class. I saw her as soon as I boarded. So I just waited till the aisle was clear enough that I could walk by her holding my breath.
Yesterday I was still coughing, and I was ready to call the asthma doctor, but I have not coughed once this morning.
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